The Devils Are Here
by napoleonbean
Summary: House recieves an unexpected visitor. Crossover with Good Omens.


Disclaimer: I don't own them. Never have, never will. Please don't sue.

Warnings: AU, hint'o'slash , crossover(with Good Omens) general weirdness

Author's Note: Um. I don't know what possessed me to write this. But write it I did. I would appreciate any criticism, if you want to give it. This is my first House fanfic, so don't be too hard on me. - frinkled stardust

House sat in his office, absently twirling his cane, while reclining in his chair. He was _bored_. He glanced absently out of the windows in the front of his office, and saw someone who looked like a _patient_ come up to his door.

The man was tall, and dark, dressed suavely in a black suit. He had a cast on one arm from upper arm to wrist. And, House noticed, sunglasses. He wondered why he was wearing them inside. The man opened the door to House's office, but House made no move to get up.

"They let a _patient_ come in here, all alone? I'll have to have a talk with security, they're getting lax."

"Oh, I'm not a patient," responded the man, in a British accent.

"You certainly look like one. What are you doing in my office?"

"You mean this," said the man, indicating his arm. "It's just there for show." He snapped his fingers, and the cast was gone. Flexing his arm, he sighed, "That's much better."

"Why. Are. You. Here," House said, with growing impatience, and a little apprehension. That thing with the cast… something about this man just wasn't right.

"Oh, I'm just doing a favor for a friend, and I thought I'd drop in on my own behalf as well. You know, see if there was anything I could do for you. Anthony J. Crowley, at your service."

"I think you're a weirdo who has invaded my office."

"Then why don't you call security?" Something about this Crowley's smile just wasn't right.

"You're an interesting weirdo."

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

There was silence for a moment, then, "What could you possibly do for _me_?"

"Oh, I could, say… take away your pain?"

"Yeah," House barked a laugh, "like that could ever happen."

"It could. I have, shall we say, connections."

"There is nothing on Earth that can fix my leg. You're just a crazy weirdo, who is about to leave my office."

"Nothing… on Earth."

House fell silent. It only took a moment to add everything up- the disappearing cast, the too wide smile. "I _can't_ believe you're an angel."

Crowley smiled, showing an impossible number of teeth. "I'm not."

For a moment, House reveled in the fact that, once again, he had been correct. Then, "No."

"What?"

"No. No deals with the devil. I'm sure that's in the Hippocratic oath. _Somewhere_."

"You're giving up the chance at a pain free life? Really?" asked Crowley, incredulous. "Most people jump at that." Then, softer, "Maybe Aziraphale was right."

House ignored the last comment. "I'm not most people," he said. "And it's not as simple as you make it sound. It never is. You take away the pain in my leg, fine. But what about the other pains? They're not all in my leg, even _I_ know that. You can't change them without changing me. I happen to like myself the way I am, even if I _am_ an annoying bastard. Anyway, it's not free. That's the thing about deals with the devil. There's a price. What is it? …Oh yeah, they usually want your soul."

"That _is_ the usual arrangement. However, I could be persuaded to accept something of equal value to you…" His eyes flicked to the office next door.

"Get. Out."

"Woah, sorry, no need to rush, won't mention it again."

"You've made your offer. I turned you down. Why are you still here again?"

"Mortals. Always in a hurry."

"_We_ don't have forever. Make it quick. Or leave."

"I still have to do the favor for my friend. I have a message for you," he paused, then said, "And I can see why. You're a real fighter for his side, aren't you, for all that you act like a bastard. Martyrs, the lot of you."

"Get on with it!"

"Very well," a different voice suddenly came from Crowley's throat. It was higher, and, somehow, gayer-sounding. "Um. Gregory House. You could be happier, but I'm pretty sure you know that. Though what you think would make you happy and what will are probably two different things. Um, anyway, the way you're going, you will be miserable for the rest of your life. Take some chances. This life is the only one you'll get, at least, I'm pretty sure it is. And I'm _sure_ that God doesn't appreciate suffering. At least, I don't think so… Um." The voice cut off. "Not very good at messages, is he?" said Crowley in his normal voice.

"Horrible," he said, a bit dazed. Whatever he had been expecting to relieve his boredom certainly wasn't deals with the devil. _Or_ messages from above.

"Anyway, I'm off, you know, evil never sleeps, and all that jazz. It's a pity you didn't take my offer. You'd be great on my side. It still stands, if you want…"

"The answer is still no."

"Fine, fine. Now go do whatever that hopeless angel was trying to tell you to do. He may be bad at messages, but he generally gives good advice. Ciao." Crowley strode out of the office. House noticed that none of the other doctors or nurses seemed to see him go.

He sat in his chair a few moments longer, before grabbing his cane and heading next door to do something about that message.


End file.
